I wear threads that carry my soul, stitched from memory,not reprimands. I wear what let's me breathe,feel whole, not what a room of mirrors demands. Why must fabric dictate the shape of a life? Why must a spectrum of colour divide? Why does a hemline cause years of strife to a body that only wants to provide? They say a suit defines the man, a dress a woman's role to pay. But cloth obeys no ancient plan, it's meaning shifts with everyday I drape my form in colours untamed, not blue for the boy,nor pink for the girl. No fabric can capture what can't be named, no thread can silence my inner swirl Written by Krystal This one includes a play of words in the title,quatrains and an ABAB structure.